


Wouldn't Miss It For The World

by Alicia_Antioch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infertility, Inspired by FRIENDS, Modern AU, adoption fic, but only kind of...?, but then it spiraled WAY OUT OF CONTROL, seriously this was only supposed to be 2k words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicia_Antioch/pseuds/Alicia_Antioch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is starting to look like I don’t have the body for babies.” She let the tears fall as he pulled her close.</p><p>“We will find another way. We always said we wanted to adopt someday. So... okay someday is here. Our child is out there, somewhere. And we will bring them home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wouldn't Miss It For The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helpmeimstuckon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helpmeimstuckon/gifts).



> I'm pretty sure I started this in February... and then I'd forget about it for a few weeks until Logan would bug me about it. So then I'd work on it for a while... and the cycle would repeat itself. I started this after watching the episode of Friends when Monica and Chandler meet Anna Faris' character, and Chandler makes a passionate speech about how Monica was a mother without a child. So, of course, all I could think about was Clarke doing that for Bellamy. Originally this was gonna be a quick little one shot, but obviously that spiraled completely out of control.

 

 

Clarke sat in the sunny office on the fifteenth floor of the hospital. Her fingers fidgeted with the oversized buttons on her sweater. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the pretty, pastel watercolors on the wall. She  to be starting her shift down at the ER in an hour. But she couldn’t think of anything but what her colleague was saying. She had known Dr. Jackson for years now, as he had trained under Clarke’s mother. She just never thought she’d be one of his patients in this specialized field.

 

“After the tests we’ve run, we've found a number of issues contributing to your infertility.”

 

She felt a heaviness in her lap, as Bellamy slid his hand between the twisting digits.

 

“What does that mean exactly?” Bellamy’s voice was lighter than she thought it would be. He didn’t sound as phased as he must have been feeling.

 

“Well for starters, your sperm count is lower than we’d like to be seeing at your age. But the ones that are there are healthy enough that it isn’t an issue.”

 

Clarke felt his hand grip hers tighter than before. She still didn't make eye contact with Dr. Jackson. Instead, she studied the brush strokes in ‘Exploring Color No. 9.’ She was listening, but only just. She didn't need to be a doctor to know what was coming next.

 

“But for you, Dr. Griffin- Clarke... the likelihood of your body being able to carry a viable pregnancy is minuscule. Unfortunately, we were not able to pinpoint one single issue. There seem to be several smaller problems contributing. But we have reached the point where there is nothing we can do. Initially, I suggested a round of hormones, and then pursuing IVF. Now with these results…" Jackson shook his head.

 

"Medically speaking, I can’t recommend going on with that course.”

 

“But... IVF is still on the table? We could still choose to go through with it.”

 

“Of course, you still have the option of pursuing IVF.  But like I’ve told you, the likelihood of ending up with a pregnancy is small. And even if you were to end up pregnant, the chances of an ectopic pregnancy is incredibly high. From a friend, with the cost of treatment, and the stress you would be putting your body under... it wouldn’t help in the long run. You'll be a year older, out twenty grand, and still have the same odds of conceiving as before.”

 

“So... there is nothing more that we can do.”

 

“Unfortunately. We’ve run out of options now. I’ll leave you two with some time to think. I’ve left some material here for you to look over. And there are some alternative options here that would cater to your specific case. You could look into surrogacy, although it's not guaranteed. There is always adoption. But, if you do decide to move forward with IVF, please let us know as soon as possible. It’ll be better to start the process as soon as we can.”

 

He left the room and Bellamy dropped his head into his hands, and sighed. “Well, where do you want to go from here? We have the money, we could always move forward with our original plan of IVF. What do you think? Clarke?”

 

She stood, wandering over to the window and pressed her head against the glass. Clarke watched as cars rushed by below them, blackening the pure snow that had fallen fresh the night before. The whole world blanketed with at least a foot of fresh powder. The snow plows had only gotten to the main thoroughfares, leaving the rest to their own devices.

 

She wasn’t thinking at all. It was all she could do to stop the doctor’s words from screaming in her head. She finally looked up when she heard Bellamy call her name for the third time. She looked into her husband’s eyes. He was resting his chin on steepled hands, his shoulder tense.

 

“What? I’m sorry, I just…" She shook her head, tried to swallow but her tongue seemed to be stuck in her throat.

 

"I can’t think about this right now. I have a shift starting in less than an hour, and you have a class… let’s just table this for now, ok?”

 

“You want to table this? Clarke, we’ve been trying to get pregnant for over a year. When would you like to explore this? Another year? Or two? How can you not have an opinion on this right now? You heard what the doctor said, we have to move forward now if we want to have a chance-”

 

“See, that’s where you and I heard two different things. What I heard, as an actual doctor, was that I can’t give you a baby. That I’m the problem here, and no matter what we do, it isn’t going to matter. That there are no medical options to explore. So if you could just give me some time so I can process that, I’d really appreciate it. I need to get downstairs now.”

 

Clarke darted out of the office, and down one of the back stairwells. Somewhere between floors nine and eight, she slowed, knowing he didn’t follow. Then between floors six and five, she let herself sink down to the floor, and cry.

 

* * *

 

 

When she pulled up to their home that night, she sat in the driveway for a few minutes to pull herself together. It had been a busy day at the ER; 3 gunshot victims, a stabbing, and, to round out the night, early labor for a young mother. Luckily Clarke had only been assisting on that last one. Honestly, she didn’t think she could have made it through as lead.

 

She opened the car door, and swung her tired body around, and staggered her way to the front door. They had yet to take down their Christmas lights, and the warm yellow glow was comforting. They were starting to close in on February, though, so she would make Bellamy take them down on Saturday. On the second floor of their quaint Craftsman, she could see the flickering blue light from the t.v. in Bellamy’s office. He was waiting up for her.

 

She walked up the stairs to their porch and shoved her hospital shoes off outside the door. She gave the door a little shove and walked in their darkened foyer. She dropped her keys in the dish by the door and threw her bag in the direction of the coat rack.

 

She found a covered plate in the microwave. Once she deemed it edible, she pressed the start button on the front of the appliance.  While the microwave did its job, Clarke pulled off her scrubs and tossed them in the wash. She twisted the knob and heard the water rush in, slowly filling the basin. She slipped into an oversized t-shirt from the basket on top of the dryer. Turning, she focused her attention to the whimpering noise coming from the backdoor.

 

She poured water into Calliope’s fountain, and filled the food dish, before opening the door and letting the puppy scramble in. The microwave beeped just as the washing machine started churning. Clarke grabbed her plate, a fork from the dish rack on the counter, and made her way up the stairs.

 

She settled herself in bed, a breakfast tray supporting her plate. She'd taken two bites before Bellamy’s shadow crossed the floor. She glanced up at his lanky frame leaning against the door jamb.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hi. How was work?”

 

“Busy. How was class?”

 

“Fine, they had a pop quiz. It was brutal.”

 

“I’m sure. I remember what a hardass T.A. you were. I can’t imagine how you’d be when left in charge of a lesson plan.”

 

He grinned at her, as she shoveled the leftovers from their Sunday dinner into her mouth. Bellamy walked across the room and laid himself backward across their bed. She avoided his fierce stare, knowing the conversation that was coming.

 

“Clarke… we need to talk now. There’s a lot of decisions that we have to make. And we need to be making them now.”

 

She slowed her fork, as she pushed around the last few peas and carrots on her plate. She watched as they swirled with the gravy from the potatoes. “I know. I just… I thought this would all be much easier.”

 

He moved the tray off of her lap, set it on the ground, and took her hands. “You know… you have to know, I want all this. But I want it all with you. It’s gonna be ok, not matter what.”

 

She stared at their interwoven hands. Clarke knew how much he wanted this, how much it hurt her that she couldn’t give this to him.

 

She felt tears prick the back of her eyes as she pressed on. “I looked over my charts on my lunch break. I know that you were hoping to move forward with IVF, but after looking those over… Dr. Jackson was right. It’s just not a viable option. And the likelihood of harvesting my eggs for surrogacy is incredibly slim. I just… it is starting to look like I don’t have the body for babies.” She let the tears fall as he pulled her close.

 

“Alright.” He whispered into her hair. Bellamy pressed sweet kisses all over his wife’s golden curls and held her tight.  “That’s ok, it’s gonna be ok.”

 

“It’s not. It’s not ok. Everyone around us is growing up, getting married and having babies. We were ahead of everyone else, now everyone is catching up and we’re falling behind.” She let the tears fall, as silent sobs ripped through her.

 

He laughed as she shook in his arms. “Oh, princess. Life isn’t a competition. But yeah, if we were keeping score, we were winning.”

 

“I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what to do. For the first time in my life, I’m at a loss.”

 

Bellamy took her face in his hands.

 

“We will find another way. We said we wanted to adopt someday. So... okay someday is here. Our child is out there, somewhere. And we will bring them home.”

 

* * *

 

A few months later, they were on track at the adoption agency. They'd made it through the first few go-arounds, and were waiting on their home visits. The flowers were just starting to push through in their garden. The grass was slushy with melted snow and the springtime rain.

 

“I just don't see why they do _all_ of this. If you were having your own they don't send social workers to check and see if you live in a good neighborhood, or if your dog is a menace.” Octavia was sitting on their back porch swing, calling through the open window. She tossed Calliope’s favorite toy down the back stairs, into the yard. The puppy took off after it, tripping over her paws.

 

“Well, we're not, so we have to jump through their hoops. And it's important that they see us as viable candidates.”

 

Clarke was standing over the sink, slowly cleaning their nice china. It was packed away since they first received it at their wedding shower, so there wasn't any real need to clean it. Clarke thought if she actually set their dining room table, it might make them seem more presentable. The other option was leaving the piles of mail, magazines, newspapers, and art supplies that were currently on top of the tacky plastic table cloth. The thought made her shiver.

 

When she set the last plate on the drying rack, she joined Octavia on the swing. She put her head back as they swung back and forth, listening to Calliope try to make friends with the local squirrels. Clarke let out a sad sigh she didn’t she’d been holding. Octavia slipped her legs on top of Clarke’s and stared at her until Clarke opened one eye.

 

“They're gonna love you guys. How could they not? You two are totally perfect. You own your home, you have paid off all your undergrads, you are both doctors-”

 

“I’m a doctor. Bellamy Blake talks at hungover twenty-year-olds about Ancient Greece.”

 

Octavia snorted. “You know I know that you’re proud of him, right? You aren’t that good at hiding it. You kind of glow when he talks about his classes.”

 

“Only from the sheen I get because I have to physically restrain my eyes from rolling back in my head.”

 

Octavia kicked her in the side, knocking the wind out of her as Clarke laughed.

 

“I just… I need this to go well. It’s my fault we have to go through this in the first place, so I want to make sure everything goes perfectly.”

 

Octavia sat up slowly, staring down her sister-in-law with a hard glare.

 

“Ok, I know you just tore down a very big wall by saying that out loud but are you fucking kidding me? This is no one’s fault. This is a cruel trick of biology that no one could have predicted. So stop with the self-victimizing bullshit. Second, do you have any doubt that Bellamy is going to let anything stop him from becoming a father? He’ll be home any minute and start stress cleaning worse than you were when I got here. So then we’ll call Miller, and make him take Bell out for a drink while we finish- because we both know that anal asshat will want to reorganize the bookshelves. Like, who care what order your stupid History Channel documentaries are in, dude? No one, seriously. The answer is not one person. Also, who has History Channel documentaries on BluRay at home? And you know he’ll want to test different cookie recipes to see what makes your house smell the best…”

 

Clarke lets a small smile creep onto her face as she listened to Octavia ramble on. Sometimes it was nice to have someone like her sister-in-law to prove that the world wasn’t a totally cruel place after all. Clarke let the small fire of dread burn down to embers, letting Octavia’s words soothe her. And she was right of course, as soon as Bellamy got home he shrugged off his tie and set to organizing the dining room table.

 

* * *

 

 

It was another few months later when Clarke came home to a message from the agency. Summer was starting to creep up on spring, and the school year was ending. Hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible, they set their first visit for the upcoming Thursday. Bellamy’s classes had finished the week before, he just had to input the final grades. Clarke was on an overnight rotation, and Thursday was her first day off in as many as six. If she could, she’d be spending it flopped on the couch, with Netflix rolling on auto play.

 

As she stood in the shower early that Thursday morning, she let her mind wander, thinking about what shows she could be streaming. Maybe a true crime drama, but the last time she checked there were several new seasons of her favorite HGTV shows, so she’d probably be watching those. She let the water run over her back, almost falling back to sleep under the scalding stream.

 

“Princess, are you almost done? They’re gonna be here in an hour.” She could see his shape through the foggy glass door of the shower.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

“Ok, I’m going to start on the cookies. Do you want me to make you anything to eat?”

 

“No, no I’m fine.”

 

When he was gone, she took a few deep gulps of air. It's going to be fine. It's going to be fine. She turned the knob to stop the flow of

water and grabbed her towel.

 

Clarke stood in her underwear staring at her closet, confused. She had pinned her hair back and put on more makeup than she normally wore. Although she did work in a hospital, so that wasn't a hard task. All she'd managed to pick out was her jewelry, and she was even second guessing those choices.

 

Nothing she had seemed right. The rational part of her mind knew that what she was wearing wouldn't affect how their interview went. But as she stared at the assortment of fabrics, colors, and patterns, she couldn't help but think there had to be a magical combination that let their interviewer know she was mothering material.

 

“Clarke! She's gonna be here soon. What's going on?”

 

“I'll be there in a minute! Could you let me get ready in peace?! I know how time works!”

 

“You've been up there for an hour. Is something stunting your ability to get ready in a timely fashion?”

 

Clarke felt a growl tickle the back of her throat. “Not everyone can throw on whatever they please and walk out the door. Some of us

actually have to plan and think about what we wear.”

 

As they bickered, she threw on one of her nicer blouses and a pair of dark wash jeans. She sat to pull on a pair of socks, while he continued to yell from the stairs.

 

“I know that you think since you spend all day shouting orderlies around, you can come home and shout at your husband. News flash, princess, I don't like being told what to do.”

 

“Right, of course, after spending years with you, I'm only learning that now! You should take care to remember that just because you have co-eds hanging on every word you say, doesn't mean your wife cares about the inner workings of the middle-class household in 23 B.C! News flash, Bellamy, no one cares!” She slid into her shoes and made her way to find him.

 

Clarke came stomping down the stairs, ready to duke out the rest of their fight. Bellamy was leaning against the kitchen counter, cool as could be, with a cup of coffee in his hand. The smirk on his face showed how pleased he was with himself. He held it out to her as she glared at him.

 

“You are not so cute.” Clarke snatched the cup from his hand. “I would have been ready on time.”

 

“I was just speeding the process along. Don’t try to pretend you weren’t standing there, agonizing over which outfit to put on.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hair as she huffed at him.

 

“I knew what I was going to wear, I just was taking my time to make sure I looked presentable.” She stirred creamer into her cup and reached for one of the cookies on the counter. He slapped her hand away.

 

“Those are not for you.”

 

“Not until the lady from the agency gets here. Then I am planning on eating my weight in baked perfection.”

 

He laughed as he tuned their stereo. Clarke rolled her eyes as his favorite soft jazz station spilled through the speakers. He came up behind her as she rinsed her cup out in the sink.

 

“Everything is going to go perfect. They already like us. They told me so at our last interview.”

 

“I'll bet they say that to everyone.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, as they watched their dog gallop around their yard. Calliope’s ears flopped as she took off after a butterfly.

 

“I promise that this is going to be perfect.” He whispered into the crook of her neck. He said it quietly enough that Clarke wasn't sure if she was actually meant to hear it.

 

“You seem pretty confident. Did you sell you soul or something?”

 

“Nah, just a few organs, and a little bit of blood. Nothing to worry about really.” He squeezed her sides where she was ticklish, and she squirmed just as he knew she would. Clarke shimmied away, laughing.

 

“Shouldn't I get a say over what organs you sold? I'm _rather_ partial to a few of them.”

 

He waggled his eyebrows at her, “Oh, I'm sure you are.”

 

He lunged around the counter for her, as she darted into their living room. He caught her arm and yanked her in. He spun them around in a circle, and their laughter filled the room. Their laughter died when the doorbell rang out. Their eyes shot to the door, as Calliope yipped excitedly from the backdoor.

 

“Let's do this.”

 

* * *

 

“So, this would be a closed adoption?”

 

“Essentially, yes. The birth mother doesn't want any contact for at least the first ten years, and possibly until the baby is of age.” Clarke looked over the paperwork in her hands. They were sitting at her kitchen table. They were sitting at her kitchen table, in her home, talking about a baby. Their baby.

 

“Would we have any information about her? What happens when the baby gets old enough to ask questions? We were hoping to be able to share with them.” Bellamy’s voice was steady, but Clarke could tell he was barely containing his excitement.

 

“If you want, you can come up with a list of questions you have for her. We can't guarantee that she'll answer them, but it's a way we can do things.”

 

“How far along did you say she is?”

 

“25 weeks.”

 

“Has she learned the sex of the baby?”

 

“She has not. But if you'd like, we can have her ask her doctor-”

 

“No, it’s fine. It doesn't matter. We don't care, as long as they're ok.”

 

“And you said she lives in Oregon?”

 

“She does.”

 

Clarke slid one hand over Bellamy’s leg. It was bouncing so quickly, she worried he might kick through the floor. He stopped when he felt her hand, but picked up the fidgeting in his fingers. They started drumming against the table as their adoption lawyer went through the paperwork with them.

 

Gina was an old friend and a damn good attorney. She had helped countless families across the state fill their homes with their forever families. Clarke saw her at the hospital a few times for several different cases. It had been a no-brainer for her to pick up the phone and dial Gina’s number when the adoption agency recommended finding a lawyer. Though when Bellamy found out he wasn’t convinced.

 

“You are aware that I used to have sex with her, correct? Like full on, relationship, feelings-heavy sex.”

 

“And yet I married you anyway.”

 

“You think she’s gonna be cool with helping her ex and his wife adopt a baby.”

 

“I think my friend Gina is going to be happy helping me and my husband, who happens to be an ex from ten years ago, adopt a baby. Yes, I really do.”

 

An hour later, after signing off on the first round of paperwork, Clarke was still sitting at the table. Bellamy had gotten up to walk Gina out, and she was left staring at the empty coffee cups.

 

“Clarke?”

 

She looked up at her husband. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed. She couldn’t quite make out his face in the orange glow of the setting sun.

 

“I never thought it would happen this quickly. They told us it could be a year before we heard anything. It's been 6 months. I just… I didn't think it would come this quickly.”

 

“Are you okay with this? We could always tell her we want to wait-”

 

“No! No. I want this, I just wasn't totally ready. But… we're gonna have a baby.” She stood and looked him dead on.

 

“We're gonna have a baby.”

 

“We are. It's on its way.”

 

She shot herself into his arms, as they both started laughing and crying.

 

“A baby. A real, live, tiny little person.”

 

“You got it. Coming right up.”

 

* * *

 

 

A month later, Clarke was out shopping on her first day off in what felt like forever. Her feet were screaming at her, and she just wanted to sit down.

 

“Octavia, can we please take a break? My feet are killing me.”

 

“I second the request for a time out.” Raven slouched against Clarke’s side.

 

“You two are such whiners.” Octavia was further back into the store. “Aww Clarke, you cannot tell me that this isn't the cutest thing you've

ever seen!”

 

She held up a tiny onesie with a picture of a polar bear laying in a pool.

 

“If you want to buy baby clothes so bad, why not have another baby?”

 

“Because I like living vicariously through you. Also Lincoln said that two is enough for now, especially since they came at the same time. And were unexpected.”

 

“To say the very least.”

 

Clarke and Raven rolled their eyes in sync. They'd been out shopping since nine that morning when Octavia had shown up on her porch with coffee, donuts, and a very hungover Raven.

 

“I like. I'm getting it. It's gender neutral too, so you can't tell me I can't.”

 

That had been Clarke’s one rule with anyone buying anything for the baby- it had to be gender neutral. They stuck with their decision to wait to find out the sex of the baby until he or she was born.

 

In that theme, they started by clearing out the guest bedroom and arguing over what shade of yellow to paint the walls. Clarke wanted a soft, gentle yellow, but Bellamy had picked out a strong lemony hue. In the end, Clarke won, but only after Raven came over and flipped a coin for them.

 

They ordered a crib and matching furniture. Clarke’s mom begged to help purchase some of their items, and Clarke finally gave in. A week later, Abby showed up with a bassinet, a co-sleeper, a pack ‘n’ play, and a thousand other things Clarke hadn’t thought of yet. She looked her mom dead in the face and asked what the point of having a baby shower would be if they already had all of this stuff? Abby had just laughed it off and told her that everyone else could just focus on the fun stuff like clothes and shoes.

 

And boy did Octavia focus.

 

“Oh! Look, look, look! How precious are these newborn socks?! I'm getting these too!”

 

“Aren't these supposed to be a surprise? You're ruining all of your presents by bringing me shopping with you.”

 

Octavia shrugged and picked up a pair of teeny, tiny ballet slippers. “I wish you knew if you were having a girl or boy. I really wanna get cutesy girl tutus.”

 

“Why couldn't a boy wear a tutu? Are you seriously trying to push gender stereotypes on a fetus, Octavia?”

 

“Shut up, Raven. And no, I just want an excuse to buy a matching adult tutu without you asshats judging me.”

 

“So, somehow matching clothes with a newborn is less embarrassing than just wearing a tutu?”

 

“Duh.”

 

Clarke walked away from her two friends while they bickered. She ran her hands over the racks of clothes, and her eye caught one sweet, perfect outfit.

 

Clarke would never admit it, but somewhere in the locked away, hidden part of herself, she was hoping for a girl. She'd never been particularly girly as a child, and never worried about having a boy versus a girl when she thought about her someday children. But now, the reality of having a baby had set in, and she realized even if she swore up and down she didn't care the sex… she did.

 

This outfit was the palest shade of pink, with ruffles along the base of the dress, and along the bottom of the matching leggings. It was lacy, and frilly, and screamed ‘girl!’, but as soon as Clarke saw it she knew she wanted it. Even if I just give it to someone as a gift someday, it'll be worth it.

 

She stashed the outfit away in the bottom of her basket, so her friends wouldn't see. She hoped it wouldn't jinx her, buying an outfit for a girl and then the baby would end up being a boy. Which was ridiculous, the sex was already determined months ago and nothing she did would change that.

 

But even so, she marched back to her friends and cried, “It is lunch time. I'm going to go and stuff my face with Mexican food, would you ladies care to join me?”

 

“Yes, oh god, yes.” Raven made a beeline for the register and threw her basket on the counter.

 

“What if I'm still shopping?”

 

Clarke glanced at Octavia’s heaping load. “I think it'll be fine. My kid's not going to be able to wear all these clothes before they grow out of them.”

 

“Fine. Now let's talk names. I'm sure Bellamy already has a list of horrible names with historical meaning. So we have to counter attack with cute, actually fun names. I was thinking we should add some family touches to it. What if we come up with gender neutral names like yours?”

 

“Yeah, and there are a thousand different types of birds that you could use, most of them gender neutral.”

 

“Name a bird that isn't gender neutral.”

 

“Hawk.”

 

“A girl could be named Hawk.”

 

“See, you automatically thought boy. It's not neutral.”

 

Clarke handed over her credit card as her friends bickered, ignoring the tug in her heart when she saw the little pink outfit fall into her bag.

 

* * *

 

 

Another two weeks passed, and preparation for the baby’s arrival had slowed, however slightly. Clarke sat at a hightop at TonDC, the gastropub Lincoln owned. She nursed her beer and cheered as Bellamy and Miller performed a horrible rendition of “Love is an Open Door.”

 

Monty and Jasper sat at the table next to her, and Raven and Octavia were flipping through the karaoke book across the room. Jasper’s new girlfriend Maya was in an animated discussion with Wick, and Lincoln was slinging drinks behind the bar. Murphy and Emori had even graced them with their presence, claiming the promise of free booze was too good to ignore.

 

After his song finished, Bellamy threw himself at the seat next to her. She raised one eyebrow at the dramatic entrance, his head resting on the table.

 

“That song is too long.” His words were muffled, and he flopped his hands next to his head dramatically.

 

“You picked it. Plus, the choreography was not necessary.”

 

He turned his head to look at her and scoffed. “Not necessary my ass. What's even the point of performing if you don't throw your heart and soul into it? That's what I thought.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. His head shot up suddenly.

 

“What do I have to do to get a drink around here?”

 

Lincoln rolled his eyes from across the room. “Maybe come over here and ask for one?”

 

Bellamy stood dramatically and swaggered his way over to the bar, on his way calling out, “Do you see this treatment?  At my own goddamned private party baby shower.”

 

“He is so wasted. When was the last time you saw him that drunk?” Jasper shoved on Monty’s arm.

 

“Um? Lincoln’s last birthday party?”

 

“Nah, that was Clarke. Bellamy was when they had that dinner party that turned into a neighborhood-wide scavenger hunt.” Jasper tossed back the rest of his drink.

 

“That’s right. What was that, two years ago?”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes again as she looked up at her phone.

 

“Closer to three now,” she said butting into their conversation. “We're old people now. Not all of us are lucky enough to have a no-hangover-ever superpower.”

 

“That was three years ago? We are old people now. Maya c’mere, let’s do something crazy to prove we aren’t old people.” Jasper took off across the floor to drag Maya onto the dance floor, flailing as he went. Miller sat with Monty, and they eased into each other in a way that only a couple could. She leaned in to start chatting when the microphone reverbed.

 

“Claaarrrkkkeee Griffffiiiiiiinnnnnn! Getchyer ass up on this stage! We’re doing a duet!”

 

“There’s three of us! That’s not a duet! It’s a trio!”

 

Raven and Octavia were falling over the microphone on the tiny stage. Clearly, they were wasted.

 

“I refuse to participate in this madness.”

 

“Ahh shut up and get your ass up here. You have a promise to fulfill.”

 

“Can’t I get a pass at my own baby shower?”

 

“Noooo! Every single time we are in this bar you are required to sing for us. You lost a bet, now it’s time to pay up!”

 

“Come and sing my angel of music!”

 

“We are not doing musicals tonight.”

 

“We’ve already picked! Get. Your. Ass. Up. Here!”

 

Clarke swung her body off of the stool and marched up to the stage.

 

“What are we singing?”

 

“Don’t worry. You’ll know it.”

 

Clarke stood there as the beginning twangs of ‘Party in the U.S.A.’ played over the loudspeaker. Every single person in the room exploded in cheers. It had been their party anthem back in college and lived on every time they were drunk enough to try and sing along.

 

Clarke belted her heart out as she watched the room. She let her eyes drift over her family. Jasper was spinning Maya around on the dance floor, Miller and Monty were swaying together at their table. Wick and Lincoln were chatting over the bar, but Bellamy was standing by himself. Watching her.

 

She felt her stomach drop as his hooded eyes raked up and down her form. She remembered the look from the first night they met, before they were enemies before they were friends.

 

They had locked eyes at a “mixer” her first night at college, and he had looked at her with the same dark expression. She had gone with her horrible roommate to a fraternity party and had subsequently been ditched by the horrible roommate. She was standing in the corner with cheap beer in a red cup, trying to dodge the attention of an overeager frat boy. She had finally managed to find a corner where the drunken idiot hadn’t followed her, pulling out her phone and checking Facebook.

 

Wells was three hours away and at a party of his own, and Raven was getting drunk with her friends at MIT.

 

10:47pm Clarke Griffin:

I hate school. Everyone here sucks.

 

10:49pm Wells Jaha:

Maybe you just need to find cooler people to hang out with.

 

10:50pm Raven Reyes

Toldja you shoulda come to school here. Then we’d be together.

 

10:52pm Clarke Griffin:

Whatever. This party blows, I’m leaving.

 

10:55pm Wells Jaha:

LAME

 

10:56pm Raven Reyes:

Suck it up, Griffin.

 

She slid her phone back in her pocket, and she shot back her beer. Clarke scanned the dance floor for her roommate. She figured if she was gonna take off, she should at least tell the one person here she knew. Clarke pushed her way through the gyrating bodies and found her roommate.

  

“Roma? Roma! I’m gonna head out, ok?”

  

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you later.” She turned her head back to the guy she was dancing with.

  

Clarke turned around to walk away and bumped into the drunk guy from earlier.

 

“Well hello there. I was wonderin’ where you’d run off to. Wanna dance?”

 

“Actually no, I’m headed home.”

 

“Aww c’mon I’ll show you a good time. Let’s get you another drink.”

 

“No, thanks. I need to get-”

 

“What’s your problem? Just dance with me.”

 

“I said no.”

 

He grabbed at her arm and she jerked it back. He made another swipe at her, and Clarke fell backward. But before she could hit the ground, two strong arms caught her around the waist. She glanced up at her hero and saw dark eyes under a brooding forehead. The intensity that these eyes were holding her own caused her train of thought to run off track.

 

“Hello? Are you ok?” The eyes had a whole face attached to it, and the mouth was speaking to her.

 

“Yeah, yes. I’m fine.” He helped her stand upright again, and then he turned his attention to the drunken mess in front of them.

 

“What did I tell you about talking to girls at parties?”

 

“Fuck off, you aren’t in charge of me. I don’t give a shit what you say.”

 

“But campus police will when I explain that you were harassing yet another female student.”

 

“Whatever Blake, like they’ll do anything. They never have before.”

 

“But who knows, Dax? Maybe the fifth time will be the charm.”

 

Drunk idiot scoffed, flipped off Blake, and stumbled off into the fray. Blake turned back to look at her, and she felt the full force of the stare. Clarke forced herself to stare at the whole rather than just at the eyes.

 

His shoulders were wide, and his chest strong. She had already had a chance to admire his strong arms, but she drew her eyes further down his lean legs. Clarke could tell he knew how to handle himself, and most certainly could have taken down the asshole who had been harassing her. She tried not to objectify him too much, but he was fine as hell and she was drunk enough to admit that to herself.

 

“Listen, if he gives you any more trouble, come find me. He’s already on official probation.”

 

“Yeah, no problem. And thank you, for that. He was not catching what I was throwing.”

 

“He’s never been good at baseball.”

 

She laughed at the terrible joke, and he threw her a smirk that shot through her core. She definitely needed to stop drinking at these parties.

 

“I’ll see you around, Princess.”

 

He slipped back into the crowd as she gaped after him. She turned to leave the party, still thinking about his intense gaze and the way his arms had felt around her waist. When she got back to her dorm, she noticed the shirt she was wearing. She hadn’t changed after moving in, and across the front of the hot pink material, the lettering read “Homecoming Royalty.” Clarke knew without looking that the back of her shirt screamed “Princess” in big capitalized letters. She groaned at her horrible choice in clothing, praying she wouldn’t see him again. Fate had other plans.

 

A week later, sitting in her first required History course of the semester, Blake was there. He was sitting next to the giant desk at the front, looking through a stack of papers. She ducked her head and slinked to a seat in the middle of the lecture hall. Halfway through the lecture, her Professor introduced him as his T.A. for the semester, and he stood and waved.

 

“Mr. Blake will be taking over a few of the lectures later in the semester while I am gone for conferences. He will also administer all of your tests and be your guide to this course. Bellamy, I trust you to cover the rest of the syllabus.”

 

As Blake, no _Bellamy_ stood, he glanced around the room. As his eyes swept over her, she thought she was in the clear, but then they swung back to her and locked on her. He sent her another smirk, like the one from the week before, and carried on with the class. Clarke ignored the way his voice sounded, now that she could actually hear it without the thump of the bass in the background.

 

After their time was up, she tried to slip out of the back but heard a rough voice call out, “Princess, a moment?”

 

She sighed, spun around on the stairs, and looked at him. His back was to her, as he looked over the stacks of papers left on the desk.

 

“How can I help you, Mister Blake?”

 

He scoffed and turned back to her. His eyes ran up and down her once, quickly and assessing. Clarke suddenly felt very underdressed in her white henley and dark blazer. He was in a button down and dark jeans and had a pair of glasses hooked into the undone collar. Bellamy Blake looked every part the Teacher’s Assistant and practically screamed trouble from a mile away.

 

“Well, as I didn’t see you again at or after the party last week, I assume you made it back to your dorm safe.”

 

“I did. Thank you, again for what you did.”

 

“Really, it’s no trouble at all. I have a sister who’s only a year younger than you, so it’s almost second nature.”

 

There it was. He looked at her like a little sister. That cooled Clarke down quickly. She could handle herself, and she was no one's replacement sister.

 

“Well, don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue.” She heard herself drop the tone of voice from playfully irked to downright irritation. Clarke watched as his smirk faded and turned to a slight scowl.

 

“I was just trying to help. I’ll make sure to leave you with the creeps at the next party.” He swung his bag onto his shoulder while she huffed.

 

“Fine by me. I can handle it on my own.”

 

“I’m sure you can Princess.”

 

“Why are you still calling me that? I have a perfectly good name.”

 

“First of all, it suits you. Second of all, I haven’t learned it, as you haven’t told it to me yet.”

 

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually told me your name. I’ve just learned it through other channels.”

 

“Still haven’t given me a substitute for ‘princess’ yet, Blondie.”

 

Clarke deepened her glare, and she pulled her bag further on her shoulder as she choked out, “Clarke. My name is Clarke.”

 

“Now was that so hard?” The smirk was on his stupid face again, and Clarke barely had time to see it before he spun on his heel, towards the door leading to the office off of the hall. He looked back over his shoulder and said, “Bellamy. See you around, Princess.”

 

He had slipped through the door before she even realized he had called her that awful nickname again.

 

Clarke felt his eyes watching her across the bar, and she refused to meet his gaze until the last strain of the song started to die out. Bellamy’s intense eyes had captivated her from the moment she first saw them, and as she crossed the bar to him she had a feeling they always would.

 

She slid onto the stool next to him and tried sending him one of the famous smirks, saying, “Now that is how you do karaoke. We totally crushed you.”

 

“Please, Miller and I are just warming up. We haven’t even done our biggest song yet, our showstopper.”

 

“Yeah right. You’ve never done karaoke without severe bribery, or blackmail. And I seriously doubt Miller has that much on you.”

 

He spun sideways and slid his arms around her waist. “He might. He's been around awhile. He could have something huge.”

 

Clarke shivered as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder and started pressing kisses across the exposed skin.

 

“What could he possibly have that I don't already know about?”

 

“The number of shots I did before you got here for starters.” He blew in her ear, and she jumped out of his arms.

 

Laughing she spun back to him, “C’mon. Let's go open presents for our baby.”

 

She held out her hand, and Bellamy slid his into it. Fingers locked, they crossed the bar together.

 

* * *

 

 

Another month passed and they slid into full on preparation. They built the furniture, baby-proofed every surface in the house, lived through several more home visits, and Clarke worked on the mural she was painting for the nursery. Or didn’t work, as she had yet to actually paint anything on the wall.

 

She had been unsure over what to paint for the past few months. Bellamy found her staring at the walls for long periods of time. Clarke couldn’t figure out what it was that she wanted to paint. Normally, she didn’t have any problem putting her brush on canvas and just letting go. But this felt different. _What if the baby doesn’t like it? What if they grow up hating it? How can I make my kid look at something they hate every day?_

 

“Clarke? Are you here?” Bellamy’s voice called from downstairs. Calliope took off down the stairs, yipping as she went. Clarke heard Bellamy greet their dog, and then shoo her out the back door to go and yip at some squirrels instead.

 

“I’m here.” She called back. “Where I’ve been since you left.”

 

He started up the stairs and rounded the corner into the room. Bellamy glance around the room and his eyes landed on Clarke. She was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by different paints, and brushes, and tools. When Clarke had woken up that morning, she was determined to use this day to get the mural finished. That had been at eight-thirty in the morning, it was now almost four and she hadn’t done anything- except decide which wall she was going to paint on.

 

“Making a lot of progress, I see.”

 

“You can just fuck right off.”

 

He laughed and came to sit with her. “So I assume we’ve decided on this wall?”

 

Clarke tilted her head and squinted her eyes, “Yes? I think?” She felt his questioning stare more than actually seeing it. “I just… what if we decide to move the furniture around? Or if we need to get a bookshelf? What if they hate it? They could grow up hating it.”

 

Bellamy slid one arm around her neck and gently massaged the base of her skull.

 

“Nothing you paint could make our child hate you. Usually, hate is reserved for unjust grounding or restricting t.v. time… I’m sure they won’t hate you for a painting.”

 

She chuckled softly and leaned into his touch. “I have a feeling I’m going to be doing a lot of grounding and restricting. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be playing bad cop for awhile.”

 

“I will be an excellent bad cop. I’m really good at doling out punishments.”

 

“Oh, ok. What time was Octavia’s curfew? Half-past never?”

 

“Yeah, but I’d embarrass the crap out of her when she screwed up. So that’s something.”

 

Clarke turned her face into his neck and hummed. “I seem to recall _you_ holding _me_ back once when we caught her sneaking in at 4 am.”

 

“She was 20, and a sophomore in college. There was nothing I could do. Plus she was only home for the weekend and hadn’t seen her friends since she’d left for school. I call it a win that she came home at all. And hey- isn’t that the same night you bet Jasper you could get more numbers off of that Bachelorette party? I seem to recall stumbling in barely an hour earlier than O.” His hands worked the knots in her shoulders and neck, fingers massaging up and down her skin.

 

“Mhmm, that was a fun night. Jasper underestimated the power of a blonde in a short skirt.”

 

“He sure did.”

 

She turned her head back towards the yellow wall and let out a gigantic sigh. “I wish this was the easiest decision I’ll ever have to make.”

 

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, and then helped pull her up. He took her shoulders and spun her towards the wall. He picked up a paintbrush, set it between her fingers, and shoved her towards the wall. “Now, paint something. Anything. The scent of paint needs to be gone before the baby comes home.”

 

Bellamy walked out of the room and back down the hallway, calling back to her as he went, “I’ll start on dinner. I told everyone to be here 10 minutes ago, so they should all be pulling up soon.”

 

Clarke heard car doors slam outside, and the chatter of voices grow. She heard the front door slam, and voices grew even louder.

 

“Honey, I’m home! And I’ve got Monty’s booze!” Wick’s voice filled their home. Clarke rolled her eyes as she heard Raven’s snarky reply and Bellamy’s easy laughter. Another set of doors slammed and she heard the cries of her nephews and Lincoln’s low voice trying to calm them.

 

“Bell, do you have teething rings frozen? The boys chose today to cut teeth.”

 

“Yeah, O. Top shelf, on the door. Did you remember to pick up the cupcakes?”

 

“Yes, good god. I forget them one time and never hear the end of it again. They’re in the car, with the salad. Jasper, go get the food from my car.”

 

Clarke let the cacophony spill over her senses, and she put paint to the wall and lost herself in her art.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Clarke woke to the sound of the phone ringing. She opened one eye and glanced at the time. It was only three forty-five, and Clarke rolled back over as Bellamy answered the phone.

 

“Hello? Yes, yes we’ll… um… yes, we’ll be there soon. Thank you.” His voice was still gravelly from sleep, but Clarke heard the excitement as he spoke.

 

“Bell? What is it?”

 

“The baby, Clarke. The birth mother’s gone into early labor. She’s already pushing. We need to get ready and go.”

 

Clarke watched as he shot out of the bed, into their bathroom. He was running through the things they still needed to pack, what they hadn’t thought of yet, how they should have been prepared, and that it wasn’t like a baby couldn’t come early, think of how early Octavia had gone into labor- but how she was carrying twins so that was to be expected…

 

While he was running around, Clarke rolled to the edge of the bed, a heavy pit in her stomach. Something felt off, felt wrong with how this was happening, how fast the wheels were turning, how soon the baby was coming.

 

“Clarke! Are you listening to me? We need to get going, she’s going to have the baby any minute.”

 

She turned to look back at him, his tall frame silhouetted by the light from the bathroom.

 

“I’m listening, but hurrying isn’t a way to jump into this. We need to double check the list, make sure we have everything and go from there. Calm down, Bell. Rushing isn’t the way to handle this. I need another hour or two of sleep, so why don’t you get everything pulled together while I rest for a few more minutes. Call someone if you need to, but I’m exhausted.”

 

“Clarke. We have to go. The next flight leaves-”

 

“Bellamy, I worked two doubles in a row. I have had a total of six hours of sleep in forty-eight hours. We have a whole list of things to take care of, and we will not make the five a.m. flight. Let’s shoot for the next one out.”

 

“Fine. I’ll go pull everything together. You go back to sleep, I’ll handle this.”

 

They left the house at six-thirty, for their flight, leaving at nine forty-five. Bellamy pulled everything together, including plane tickets, while Clarke slept off her last two days.

 

Raven and Wick came to wave them off and watch their dog while they were gone. Clarke scrubbed Calliope’s ears as she struggled in Raven’s arms. The Uber pulled up behind them, and she heard the quiet chatter between Bellamy and their driver. While they loaded the luggage into the car, Clarke ran her hand over Calliope’s face. The little dog whined.

 

“She’ll be fine, don’t you worry,” Raven said.

 

“I’m not worried, she likes you more than she likes me.”

 

“I was talking to the dog.”

 

Clarke shot off one tired evil eye, and they left for the airport. They made it in record time and flew through security. As they settled at their gate, Clarke felt the dread settle back down in the pit of her stomach. It had dissipated in the hurry of the morning, but she felt it slither back in and coil deep in bones. She was sure there was nothing to be nervous about, other than becoming parents. She snorted to herself over that. What’s scary about taking on a brand new life for the rest of your own? What could go wrong?

 

Bellamy ran to a kiosk to grab some coffee, and Clarke settled in reading her new medical journal when she heard her phone ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw Gina’s number flash across the screen.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Clarke, hi. I’m glad I caught you. I tried your home number, but Raven said you two are already on your way?” Gina sounded stressed and worried, which was unlike their optimistic friend.

 

“We’re at the airport, I’m sitting by our gate now. Bell’s just grabbing some coffee. Is something wrong?”

 

“It’s about your son.”

 

“She had the baby? It’s… it’s a boy?” Clarke had never felt such joy bubble up in her chest. A son, her baby boy. She never thought she could feel this feeling, this immediate delight over something as simple as the word _son_.

 

“Well yes, she did. But that’s where the trouble is.”

 

Bellamy slid into the seat next to her, coffee cups in hand. He raised one eyebrow at Clarke, and she mouthed “Gina,” back to him.

 

“What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

 

“No, nothing like that. Actually, he’s perfect. And because of that, the mother is reluctant to give him up.”

 

In hearing those words, Clarke felt the dark pit in her stomach threaten to consume her.

 

“What… what are you saying, Gina? What does that mean?” Clarke looked at Bellamy, helpless.

 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he whispered, “What’s wrong?”

 

Clarke shook her head, unable to convey anything until Gina spoke again. “Clarke, I’m so sorry, but… she’s changed her mind. She wants to keep the baby.”

 

She heard the sound of the phone hitting the tile floor, and felt the sob rip through her. Bellamy grabbed the phone off the ground, and cried into it, “Gina, what’s wrong?”

 

Clarke collapsed into herself, feeling the tears fall onto her face and hands. She heard as Bellamy finished the conversation with Gina, and hung up the phone. His arms slid around her, and she felt his tears mingle with hers.

 

“Gina said we should hold off on getting on the plane. She said there’s still a chance the birth mom could change her mind, and then we should head out. But otherwise, we should go home and wait for her call.”

 

She nodded but didn’t make any moves to stand. Neither did Bellamy. They sat in the airport terminal, and cried, together.

 

* * *

 

 

Three months later, Clarke was still finding Bellamy in the empty nursery. When she got home from work, in the middle of the night, any random time of day he was in there. Usually, he would sit in the glider. Every now and then she would see him holding a pair of socks or a tiny onesie, and she would feel the pain all over again.

 

Slowly their life settled back down. The first few days had were filled with a small sense of hope, but then the call never came. Then came the huge waves of grief. Clarke often wondered how she could be grieving the loss of someone she had never met, never held. But she did.

 

After a week, their friends helped them move all of the baby stuff from around the house into the nursery. They wouldn’t have to see it, that way. Octavia spent hours organizing it all, trying to justify that the next time around they wouldn’t need to hunt anything down, but Clarke didn’t care. She had yet to care about almost anything.

 

She was supposed to be posting pictures of their three-month-old son of Facebook today. She was supposed to be at the courthouse next week, finalizing the adoption in front of a judge. They were supposed to be having a party after, celebrating their baby being theirs officially.

 

Instead, she was back to working sixty hours a week and trying not to picture what color his hair would be, or if he would have any hair at all. As she was running around the E.R. she would fantasize about if the baby would be sleeping through the night yet, or if he’d be stubborn and still waking up every few hours to eat.

 

The holidays had come and gone, and she should have been able to send out adorable baby announcements with their son in a present box, or surrounded by twinkling lights. Instead, for the first time in their married life, they didn’t put up a tree or any decorations. Octavia made them come over for Christmas, but Clarke just sat on the couch watching her nephews tear into their many presents. She’d excused herself, and spent twenty minutes hiding in the garage, sobbing to herself. She couldn’t help but imagine how spoiled her baby would have been, had he been there.

 

It was now one year since they’d started. Clarke celebrated her 33rd birthday, Raven and Wick had gotten engaged. Jasper and Monty had started their own distillery, and Bellamy had gained tenure at the University. Wells and his wife had welcomed a baby girl. For all of these events, Clarke exclusively cried happy tears.

 

But even with all of the good, it was still the worst year of Clarke’s life. The happiness of the first ten months was overshadowed by the horrible last two.

 

Clarke felt herself slipping under the tide, but wasn’t sure how to swim back to the surface. She knew she wasn’t engaging, that Bellamy was grieving too, but she couldn’t make herself reach out. She didn’t understand how she could hurt this much over something that was never hers.

 

She hadn’t even wanted a baby that much to begin with. They had only started trying because Bellamy had convinced her that it would be a good idea. Clarke had never pictured herself as a mother. She loved caring for people, it was one of the reasons she became a doctor in the first place. But that need was filled by her job, and she had never actively thought about children. She had always been the “mom friend” of every group of people she was ever a part of, and she had found comfort in that. At the end of the day, children were something far away, something for real adults with their shit together- not for newlyweds with brand new jobs and a mountain of student loan debt.

 

But then somehow, she and Bellamy _were_ real adults with a home of their own and jobs that more than covered their monthly bills. They had been married for long enough that they weren’t newlyweds anymore. Then everyone was asking when kids would come into the picture. Eventually, it was a question Bellamy started asking too, and Clarke had to face reality head on. He was ready to be a father, had been for some time, and was just waiting for her to catch up.

 

Clarke knew, had always known, that he wanted kids. One of the first real conversations they ever had was about what they thought their futures would be. Clarke described working in third world countries while simultaneously becoming the next Picasso.

 

When she asked Bellamy what his ideal life would be, he shrugged.

 

“Dunno, happy I guess. A couple of kids, smoking hot spouse, maybe a dog. Wouldn't mind a picket fence.”

 

Looking back, she had fallen a little in love with him then, while he tossed back the rest of his shitty beer and steered the conversation back to her.

 

Clarke sort of figured that when she got pregnant she would attach to the baby, but then they tried for a year and nothing happened. At first, she was just happy with all of the sex, but then it became a chore each day. Monitor your temperature, check your ovulation charts, don’t drink too much, then don’t drink at all. Realize it’s been a whole year of trying, and not one late period, not one almost. Go see a specialist, and have a thousand tests run. And then have your world turn upside down.

 

So after years of not really caring whether or not they had kids, she couldn't figure out why this loss was so devastating. If she never wanted this to begin with, why was this so hard?

 

It was the end of February before Bellamy said anything to her. He came home from work one night and started banging around in the kitchen. Clarke could hear him muttering to himself all the way up in their bedroom, where she was curled under the comforter, snuggling Calliope. Forty five minutes after he got home, she heard him call up the stairs to her. She ignored him at first, but his cries became more and more belligerent.

 

“Clarke, I swear to God, get your ass to the kitchen right now. So help me, I will drag you down these stairs if I have to.”

 

She groaned and shoved the comforter off her body. She had changed out of her scrubs when she got home early that day, but only to put on the comfiest onesie she owned. She pulled the hood over her head and slinked off down the stairs.

 

“Bellamy, I am not really in the mood for a fight. I had a horrible day and I-”

 

As she rounded the base of the stairs, she saw several bouquets of flowers and candlelight shining from their living room. She crossed their living room, stopping to pick up one small daisy sticking out of one of the bouquets. Bellamy was sliding something out of the oven, their kitchen nook was set with their nice china, and he had candles everywhere.

 

“Bell, what is this?”

 

He smiled at her, his eyes bright.

 

“Happy Anniversary.”

 

She tilted her head to the side, her hood slipping back. “Our anniversary is in September. Did you hit your head?”

 

“But we got engaged in February.”

 

“That’s cheating. That’s not a real anniversary. We started dating in September and got married in September. ‘When we got engaged’ is not a real anniversary.”

 

“Sure it is.”

 

“We’ve never celebrated it before.”

 

“Then what do you think the flowers showing up at the end of February every year mean?”

 

“You never send flowers. You send book recommendations.”

 

“A few times there were flowers attached.”

 

“Like, maybe twice for the whole time we’ve been together.”

 

“Whatever. I’ve decided we’re having dinner in honor of our anniversary.”

 

“I like our real anniversary better.”

 

“You just like the story.”

 

“It is a pretty good one. Tell it to me.”

 

He rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same.

 

“I seem to recall a very irritated, slightly inebriated Clarke showing up on my doorstep at eleven forty-five after a torturous fundraising dinner. He twisted her around and sat her down on the bench, pouring her a glass of wine as he spoke.

 

“You showed up to my door, and nearly knocked it down with how hard you pounded on it. When I got the door open, you came flying in, demanding to know what my problem was.”

 

“I remember it as calmly inquiring.”

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He slid onto the bench across from her. “Anyways, you come barreling into my apartment, guns blazing, your purse flying halfway across the living room and demanding answers. You start screeching-”

 

“Passionately questioning.”

 

“ _Screeching_. Screeching about how I am the biggest idiot walking the planet, and how I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. I remember you throwing your coat off, and stalking by me into the kitchen.”

 

Clarke felt a small smile creep on her face as she picked up her wineglass. “I pulled every beer out of your fridge, looking for one of mine.”

 

“You forgot that you finished them earlier in the day, pregaming before dinner with your mother.”

 

“It was a _very_ important dinner. My mother was running for lieutenant Governor. I had to be presentable.”

 

“Yes, getting shitfaced before an official fundraising dinner is always advisable. Back to my story. You shove everything out of the way before realizing there is nothing in my fridge that you drink. So instead you shove back around me and go to the bar.”

 

“Caddy. You had a rolling _caddy_ that was missing a wheel. That is not a bar.”

 

He steamrolled right over her interruption. “You picked up my thirty-year-old bottle of Scotch Octavia bought me for graduation and-”

 

“Chugged like half of it.”

 

“You sure did. You then continued to scream, telling me how dumb I was, how you’d been throwing yourself at me, practically-”

 

“Practically.”

 

“And how you’d been in love with me since forever, and if I weren’t in love with you then everyone else was crazy.”

 

“I’d just had my ass chewed out by everyone because you were as in love with me as I was with you and we were both blind to it.”

 

He took her hand across the table. He was still in his button front shirt from work, but had shed his tie and popped the top few buttons. The sleeves were pushed back and crumpled. His hair was a mess, and he had a swipe of something on the collar of his shirt. He was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

 

“Our friends were smarter than we were. And so as you rambled on, I crossed the two steps it took to get to you...”

 

“And you kissed me.”

 

“I kissed you.”

 

Bellamy gripped her hand tighter as he smiled at her. But as Clarke looked at him, she realized the smile barely touched his eyes. She dropped her gaze from his.

 

“Bellamy…”

 

“No. Don’t you start. Not tonight.” He stood and crossed back over to the oven, and pulled the pan out. He slipped the bread out with it.

 

“I need to start. I… I’m sorry. I know I’ve been MIA for awhile.”

 

He dropped the basket of bread on the table, and pieces of salad flew out of the neighboring bowl.

 

“So we're doing this then? Ok, fine. You practically disappeared. I haven’t said more than ten words to you in months. This is the longest we’ve talked in who the fuck knows how long?! You do know that you weren’t the only one who was hurting right?! That I lost something too?!” He was screaming now, the veins in his neck popping.

 

Clarke dropped her head to the table, tears springing into her eyes quickly. “I’m sorry Bell. I didn’t know how much it would hurt. How much of a loss it would be.”

 

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t feel the same as you every damn day? I lost him too. Christ.”

 

He threw a dish at the wall, and Clarke jumped as it shattered. Bellamy turned back to face her.

 

“You left me. You made me stand on my own during the worst time. And… where does that leave us? We made a promise to stand by each other, we said that in our darkest days we’d turn to each other. You went away, you didn’t trust me enough to be strong for you. You didn’t want me to be there for you.”

 

Clarke turned her head on the table. He was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. She could see the tendons in his arms popping, matching the ones in his neck. Some of the candles had started to sputter out, and she couldn’t see his face as clearly. He was covered in the darkness that's been swirling in their home since that horrible phone call in November.

 

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t look at your face, or hear your voice without hearing Gina tell me over and over again that he wasn't coming home. And the only reason we’re in this mess is because I can’t give you what you want. The only reason we’re sitting here, without a baby of our own, is because my body rejects any chance of pregnancy. My sole function as a woman is destroyed and you’re bound to me and this life. You didn’t choose this. When we got married… fuck even before that! When you chose me, you thought you were choosing someone who could give you what you wanted.”

 

Clarke stood and made her way across from him. His features were now totally shrouded in darkness, and she could only see the outline of his face. His eyes were staring at the floor in front of her feet, and he was still as stone.

 

“I never thought I wouldn’t be able to do this. That life would throw this many curve balls at us. I didn’t think-”

 

“That life would get messy? You know that’s the dumbest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth, right? Life is messy from your first breath until your last. And I know that I’ve always been more open than you, I get that’s part of the deal with you. I picked you anyways. So you saying that you didn’t think- I can’t understand how you would ever think I wouldn’t…”

 

Bellamy was still resting against the wall, but his body was tense with unused energy. He hadn’t raised his voice above a whisper, but Clarke felt worse than all the thousands of times his voice had been raised in the past.

 

“Bell…”

 

He sprang off the wall, past her, into their living room. “I’m gonna go meet Miller for a drink. I’ll be back later.”

 

Grabbing his jacket and keys from the front table, he was out the front door before she could react.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometime late that night, Clarke heard him stumble in. He stubbed his foot on the doorway, cursed at the shoe he tripped over, then knocked his head on the frame. She sits up and watches him struggle with his jacket, and then his tie. He jumps out of his pants and kicks them towards the hamper. He stumbles into their bathroom, and splashes water over his face and gargles some in the back of his throat. He makes his way back to the bedroom, leaving every light on in his wake.

 

Clarke feels him flop on their bed and groan. She’s not even sure he knows she’s awake. She rolls onto her side, facing him.

 

“Miller demanded shots. When did shots become gross? Because they are.” His voice was muffled, filtering through the pillow he buried his face in.

 

“Shots have always been gross. They will always be gross.”

 

“I forgot, you only like hard liquor once you’re so drunk you won’t remember drinking it.”

 

He turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, and he smelled like stale tobacco and bourbon. She smiled, timid. “Hey.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“So I’ve been thinking…”

 

“Figures.”

 

“Shut up. I’ve been thinking that I could be more open with you. There are parts of me that I have a hard time sharing but… I picked you because you were okay with that. You knew that I have a hard time with… with loss and I just think that you shouldn’t have to be as understanding as you’ve been.”

 

His eyes sobered, as he propped up on one arm. “Clarke, I’m not asking you to-” his voice was slow and soft before she cut him off.

 

“I know you aren’t. I know you would never, but because of that… it makes me want to try. You deserve better from me.”

 

She took a deep breath and tried to look into his eyes. He was staring so focused on her own, that she had to tear them away and stare at her hands instead.

 

“Before we were together, I never thought I’d be with someone forever. Not after Lexa.”

 

“Clarke we do not have to do this-”

 

“Would you shut up? Just lemme do this. Lexa was my first taste of what forever love could be. I know you all kind of hated her, but with me she was perfect. She made me so happy. She filled me up with laughter and joy, and she was so sarcastic it made my teeth hurt. She was so dramatic and had a passion for candles that no one will ever beat. I knew somewhere deep in my soul that she could be it for me, and I was so ready for it. We had the deepest, greatest love affair. One for the history books. It was passionate and… real. It was the most real thing I'd ever felt.

 

But with all of that, I knew she didn’t want kids. She was so wrapped up with the kids at her center, she knew she couldn’t split her time. And I had only ever thought about kids in an abstract way, where they could be somewhere in my future, but not yet. So when she told me she didn’t want them for herself, I could lock that part of myself away.”

 

He sat up the rest of the way, swinging his legs beneath him. Clarke kept her eyes downcast away from him. She knew that if she stopped now she might never finish.

 

“So I did. I locked it, threw away the key, and thought I’d never need to worry about it again. I kind of thought we might revisit the conversation someday, and maybe have a different outcome. And I mean it wasn’t like I had a chance of getting pregnant. So... I moved in with her and started planning a future, a full life with her. And then the first time she gets me to go running with her… a car hits her. Just comes out of no fucking where and slams her through the air.”

 

She feels the tears come from deep inside of her, and she tries to choke them down. But these are scars that have never fully healed, wounds that are still infected a decade later.

 

“I held her hand while she was lying there. I told her she was going to be fine. I thought she just had a broken leg, definitely a concussion, they’d be able to fix it. She just smiled serenely up at me, and rolled her eyes.”

 

Clarke could still see the brilliant green of Lexa’s eyes when she tried. They had been one of the things Clarke loved most about Lexa. Her eyes held all the emotion, all the secrets her stony exterior didn't reveal. Clarke remembered feeling so special while she learned those secrets.

 

“Then when she coded in the ambulance… I couldn't believe that there wasn't anything they could do. I thought they had missed something. I was so sure they had screwed up. It couldn’t have been something that horrible. Then the doctors showed me the fatty embolism that had lodged in her lungs. I remember hearing them tell me it would have happened no matter how fast we got to the hospital. They told me there was nothing that could have been done... And so I locked another part of myself away. The part of me that believed in forever was lost, and then somehow…”

 

Clarke watched his hand slide onto her knee, and she dropped her own on top of his.

 

“I woke up one morning, and you were there, in my kitchen, cooking breakfast. It had been weeks since I’d seen you and you just decided to let yourself in so you could use my stovetop. I remember thinking that I could get used to seeing you first thing in the morning. And then I scolded myself for thinking that and being very glad I didn’t say it out loud.

 

“But then I looked at a calendar. I realized it had been more than two years since she died, and thought she might be ok with me moving on. Somewhere along the line, I realized that forever would be worth having if I could have it with you.”

 

Now she looked at him but missed his eyes. He was fixated on their hands, their fingers locked together on her knee. Clarke was almost glad she didn’t meet his eyes right away, grateful for a few seconds to just stare. She took a deep breath, to try and finish.

 

“So I unlocked that door and let you in. And with that, I let the Lexa dream go. Because... somehow, even though she was totally gone, I still thought we might have been _meant_ . And then, I had you, and I knew that I could have that chance of forever again. But I still couldn’t open the door I had locked kids behind. I knew, _I knew_ I needed too, but I couldn’t. And then we were getting married and we’d never really talked about it, y’know as a couple, and that seemed crazy to me. But I knew where you stood, and I think I thought I would just catch up with you. And when I did, I found out I couldn’t give you… and so another part of me died a little.”

 

Clarke dragged her hands through her hair, needing some kind of stimulation to force herself to finish.

 

“Then the first time I let myself really believe, really want a baby… our baby… he gets snatched away before I can even see him. Before I even have a chance for him to be mine, for him to be ours, he’s gone. I can’t even call him by the name we picked for him because that was never his name. He’s called something else, by someone else, and he’s living a completely different life that isn’t with us. And I know we’ll have more chances, I know that, but somehow this felt like a nail being pounded into my coffin. I don’t think I can do that again. How do people do this? How do people have multiple adoptions fall through over the course of years? We’ve been doing this for a year and I’m exhausted, how are we supposed to keep this up for years at a time?”

 

She’s standing now, having torn herself from their bed to pace the room. She stopped in front of him and held her hands helplessly in front of her. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled her into his embrace.

 

He held her, as she finally let those tears fall. The tears that she had been holding in since Lexa died, since she had to live her life without her. The ones she never let herself cry for the eleven years since she heard Lexa’s laugh, or saw her glare, or heard her voice call from the other room. For the years that were stolen from her, the years that could have been filled with so much life and happiness. For the years stolen from the beautiful girl with fierce eyes and the bonfire for a soul.

 

She cried for the baby they had lost, for all those that they would never have. She cried for Bellamy, and for their little family, who had been just as excited as her for the newest arrival. She cried and cried until she felt silly for crying so long.

 

Eventually, she picked her head up from his shoulder to look at him. To look at her husband, her sweet, incredibly caring, infuriating husband, who put up with so much and asked for so little in return.

 

“I love you.”

 

It was offered so simply to her, he might have been ordering a drink or paying a bill. And yet, the gravity of the words filled her. They swirled around the room and banished the dark clouds that had been hovering around their home for months.

 

She took his face in her hands and kissed him. She kissed the crease between his eyebrows and the stubble across his jaw. She pressed her lips to the hundreds of freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose, the tiny crow's feet sneaking into the corners of his eyes. She intended to kiss every millimeter of his face and felt quite a rush to do so.

 

His laughter stopped her, and he turned his head to capture her lips with his own. It was nowhere near their first fight. It was certainly not their biggest, and Clarke was sure there'd be hundreds more in their future.

 

But she pressed her forehead to his, knowing that if for every fifty fights they had, if she could have one perfect moment like this she'd happily scream herself hoarse for the rest of her life.

 

“You know, the only reason I was at your apartment that morning was because of a Classic Octavia Scheme.”

 

“Come again?” She slid her legs over his to sit on his lap.

 

“Octavia created this whole ‘Make Clarke Leave Her Apartment’ plan. Everyone was getting concerned that all you did was go to class and go home. Octavia swore you didn't even go to the grocery store. She was worried, so she came up with a plan, of sorts. It was very involved, with many committees and subcommittees. So while they were still arguing over who would be the first to initiate the plan, I came over and made you breakfast.”

 

“That’s… kind of hilarious. Did anything ever come of these plans?”

 

“Well, we got together and drank… just like, a ton of alcohol. An irresponsible amount. There was a whiteboard somewhere, but I’m pretty sure it ended up holding our rules to Kings.”

 

“Plus, I did start leaving my apartment again.”

 

“Well, I guess. But I mostly cared about the free booze.”

 

She leaned in to capture his mouth again, with their laughter mingling between their lips. They held each other for awhile and fell asleep, together, while the early morning sun crept through the curtains.

 

* * *

 

 

The months passed, and Clarke felt herself come alive again. She went to the bar, she played with her nephews and taught Calliope a handful of new tricks. She and Bellamy had Wells and his family come visit, finally meeting his daughter.

 

Clarke considered gifting the tiny outfit she had squirreled away to Wells. She even pulled it out to wrap at one point, but when she had the soft fabric in her hands, she tucked it back into the drawer to save.

 

They rented a cabin on the lake for Memorial Day and spent the long weekend happily drunk. Clarke and Bellamy took some time for themselves in June, and spent the entire week lying on their couch binge watching Netflix. Without even realizing, Clarke was happy again. She still felt the occasional pang in her chest when she looked at the closed nursery door, and she definitely knew it wasn’t logical that for every passing month she looked up what milestones the baby should be passing. It was just something she learned to live with, like her broken heart over Lexa.

 

Clarke woke the morning after Independence Day to her alarm. She knew from the minute she got her schedule that this shift would be hell. She knew that it would be spent treating idiots with burns- firework, the sun, and charcoal to start, more than likely a few cases of dehydration. It would be long, boring, and tedious work and she still got absolutely hammered last night. Sliding into her last pair of clean scrubs, she called goodbye to Bellamy. He'd tucked himself away in his office, trying to publish as many papers as he could before the school year started back up. She heard him groan back at her as she slipped out the front door.

 

Like she'd predicted, she spent the morning icing, slathering, and all around treating burn victims. The ED had one severe car accident around lunch, and then it was back to the slow pace of summer. Clarke was finishing her stolen lunch break as her phone rang. She fished her phone out of her scrubs pocket, answering without looking at the number.

 

“This is Dr. Griffin.”

 

“Clarke! I'm glad I caught you, I've been trying Bellamy for a half hour, but he's not answering.” Gina’s brassy voice warbled through the phone. Clarke could hear the noise of the city flooding the line behind Gina’s call. A car honk went off, a shout of a street vendor selling pretzels, then the screeching of birds.

 

“Sorry about that. He's deep into editing mode. Most if his deadlines are at the end of the month. He might not even have his phone with him. How’ve you been?”

 

“Oh fine, just fine. Just headed to the elementary school to register my daughter for kindergarten.”

 

“Exciting times for the Martin ladies.”

 

Gina laughed, and Clarke heard the sounds of the city cut off as she delivered directions to her cab driver.

 

“Listen, Clarke, there's actually a reason I called. I just found out there's a girl in Niagara Falls who is looking to give up her baby. She was reading over files, and she liked the look of yours and Bellamy’s. Any chance you two are interested?”

 

Clarke stopped in her tracks. The whole world seemed to slow, time stalling for her. She could hear the rushing of her heart in her chest, and the silent whoosh of her breathing.

 

Clarke knew this day would come, knew that there'd be another call for them. Another mother somewhere, who could do what Clarke couldn't, and who would give that gift away. She knew this.

 

And yet…

 

In this moment, she didn't know what to say. She knew she needed to say something, but couldn't make the words come out. The world started to speed up around her, and she could hear Gina’s voice calling her name.

 

“Clarke? Did I lose you? Clarke?”

 

Clarke opened her mouth to speak, but then one of her nurses called out to the department.

 

“Incoming! Car Accident off of the Interstate. Trauma Room 5! Dr. Griffin?”

 

“I'm on my way. Gina, can I call you back? We have an incoming here.”

 

“Of course. Sorry, I caught you at work. I'll try for Bellamy again.”

  
The line clicked off, and Clarke sprung into doctor mode. She didn't have time to think of anything else, as she took off for the incoming patient.

 

“Ok, tell me what we've got!”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke slid her shoes off outside of their front door, and slid her key into the lock. A five car pile-up on the highway kept the emergency room busy for most of her shift. She hadn’t worked a day like this one in years, and Clarke forgot how draining it could be.

 

Shutting the door, she tumbled the lock and slid down to the floor. Her head tipped against the bright yellow of their front door, and felt some of the stress slip away. Calliope came sprinting from the couch, and covered her face in slobbery kisses. Her whines filled Clarke’s ears, and she scratched at her ears.

 

“And how was your day, sweet girl? Did you foil the nefarious plot of the Squirrel Mafia yet? Or maybe you chased those rascal rabbits? Did you get one? That is a good girl.”

 

“Calliope, leave Mom alone. She’s covered in gross hospital germs, don’t touch her.”

 

Bellamy stood in the kitchen, having slipped in through the backdoor. He sometimes wrote out on their back porch in the heat of the summer. He loved to listen to the cry of cicadas, and the peals of laughter from the neighborhood kids running through sprinklers. Clarke tried to join him, but she couldn’t take the heat. Bellamy would just shrug and tell her it built character.

 

“I am not covered in germs. Just blood and gore. I promise no infectious diseases came through the ED today.”

 

“Oh right, because other’s bodily fluids are much better than germs.” He pulled a Tupperware container from the fridge and popped the lid off, dumping the pasta onto a plate.

 

“In some ways. They just kill you differently.” She crawled her way to the washing machine, not trusting her feet to hold her up to walk the short distance. She yanked off her top and bottoms, groaning at her stiff muscles.  Pulling herself up the machine, Clarke ignored Bellamy’s low chuckle at her antics. She tossed the dirty scrubs into the basin with her soap, and slammed the lid as the water started to fall.

 

Bellamy slid her dinner plate on the table while she grabbed a shirt from the dryer. She slipped it over her shoulders and gave up the search for pants. Crawling back across the floor, she pulled herself into the closest chair and threw her head down on the table.

 

Before she could get the first bite past her lips, Bellamy cleared his throat. She glanced up at him, her fork poised at her mouth.

 

“I, uh... I talked to Gina today.” He tipped his head towards the floor, his eyes were shrouded by hair. “She said she talked to you too?”

 

Clarke nodded but started eating, carefully chewing her first bite. She moved slowly, methodically, as if she was around a small animal. Bellamy’s guard was up, and she didn’t want to spook him before he could make his point.

 

“I told her I had to talk to you before anything. And I know you’re still healing, and I don’t want to push anything… y’know too much, too fast. But I think… I think this could be it.”

 

He slipped into the chair next to her, and she turned her head towards him. His eyes were wild with hope, and she waited for him to finish his little speech.

 

“Clarke, I know… I don’t know how I know. But I just… I feel it in me. This is our chance. I really want to take it. But only if you’re ready, only if you think you can-”

 

“Okay.”

 

His words slowed, as her agreement worked it’s way through his mind.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay.” She smiled at him and clutched his hand in hers. “I’m in. Call Gina.”

 

He choked out a laugh, “She’ll strangle me through the phone if I call her now. But first thing in the morning… yeah, I’ll call.”

 

He leaned in to press a kiss to her lips, fast and hard, full of promise. Clarke watched him flow around the room, and pick up their dog, spinning her through their living room. She picked up her fork again, eating as fast as she could, wanting to join him in his joy. When she’d shoveled more than half of the plate into herself, she joined their little dance party.

 

Spinning around, the three of them together, in the soft glow from the stove top light, Clarke felt a sense of home she’d been missing for a long time. She snatched Calliope from his arms and snuggled her close. In the morning they would start over. In the morning, they would call Gina and hopefully change their lives all over again.

 

But for now, Clarke had her husband and her dog, in their home, and that was enough.

 

* * *

 

 

“Her name is Charlotte. She’s 15, in the system, has been for a while. She ran away from her last home in January. They found her in Boston in late March, she was holed up with some boy she knew from one of her old schools. Didn’t even know she was pregnant until she was checked out by the doctors. Poor kid, really. Never been in any real trouble, but the running. The baby’s growing well, and she hasn’t had any complications.”

 

“How many other families has she spoken with?”

 

“Not many. She doesn’t like many of the files. Says they’re too formal, too perfect.”

 

“Why’d she pick us?”

 

“She liked your dog. Said she was cute, liked her name.”

 

“Told you she was good for something.”

 

“Shut up. She’s good for all things.”

 

They stood in front of a door, a small window flooded with light in the dark wood. Clarke could just barely see the one occupied chair in the room. She could see the small curve of a shoulder,

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Clarke felt Bellamy’s eyes on her, and she nodded to the social worker.

 

“Ready.”

 

She opened the door and let Clarke take a few steps into the room. Clarke felt Bellamy slide up behind her, his hand on the curve of her waist.

 

“Charlotte, the Blake’s are here to see you. You remember?”

 

The small blonde stood, and turned to face them, her long braid spinning over her shoulder. Her oversized jacket couldn’t hide the swell of her stomach, but her face was just as youthful as one would expect.

 

“The one’s with the dog. Calliope.” Her voice was low, gravely.

 

“That’s us. But my wife is still technically a Griffin. Doctor Griffin.” She rolled her eyes.

 

“Clarke, just… just Clarke.”

 

“Hi, I’m Charlotte. I’m guessing you’re Bellamy.” She stuck out her hand as if she’d thought of it retroactively.

 

Bellamy took the few steps forward and grasped her hand. Clarke took a few steps behind him and followed suit. The girl’s hand was cold, but her grip was firm and determined.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Charlotte. We’ve been looking forward to this.” Clarke willed her voice not to waver as she spoke.

 

“Do you guys want to sit down? Or, um… they put out some coffee or whatever over there.” Charlotte gestured towards a corner of the room where a coffee pot sat steaming next to a plate of cookies.

 

Bellamy shook his head and sat on the couch across from Charlotte. Clarke shrugged her jacket off and laid it over the back of the couch. She sat down next to Bellamy and slid her hand over his on the cushion.

 

“So… Charlotte. You’re fifteen, right? That makes you a... will you be a sophomore this fall?”

 

Bellamy slipped into his teaching voice when he spoke to her. She nodded.

 

“Do you like your school? Or any classes in particular?”

 

“School’s fine, summer break is nice. At least I don’t have to see anyone like…” Her hands fluttered over her stomach.

 

“Summer was always my favorite time of year, too. Still is, really.”

 

“Until we put up the Christmas tree.”

 

Charlotte watched them carefully, with the control of someone who had years of practice hiding their emotions.

 

“We never celebrated Christmas, or any holiday really. But I always like the snow. The first snow every year is… special.”

 

“I agree.”

 

They all sat in silence for a minute, glancing around the room, staring at anything but each other. Clarke listened to the clock on the wall tick seventy-five times before another noise was made.

 

Charlotte cleared her throat and shifted in her chair. There was an unease about her that didn't seem to have anything to do with being in her last trimester.

 

“Look. You guys seem great, and I’m sure you’ll be awesome parents… but I am having a really hard time imagining giving up my baby. I just… I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. And I thought, ya know, maybe if I met some people who were cool and that I liked, I could… picture it. You know, maybe picture them having my baby become their baby…and see them as a family, living there and raising them… but I still… I just I’m not. It’s hard. I think I… I maybe need a minute.”

 

She shot up and knocked her knee into the small coffee table. She hurries towards the door, slamming it open in her wake, leaving Clarke and Bellamy shellshocked.  

 

After a few seconds, Bellamy made to stand, but Clarke stopped him.

 

“Let me.”

 

Out in the hall, Charlotte was hunched over, her arms curved around the top of her stomach. She was choking back tears, and Clarke instantly recognized the look of someone trying to psych themselves up.

 

“Charlotte?”

 

She shot up, looking towards Clarke. Her cheeks were wet, matching her eyes. The girl looked so small, so young.

 

“I'm coming back, I promise. I just… I needed a minute. They keep telling me I have to do this. If I wait anymore, then the baby will just go into the system like me, and I'll never ever see them again. So I want to pick people who I like, who are good. I just… I need a minute.” Charlotte sank down to the floor, her legs splayed out in front of her. Clarke took a few more steps towards the dejected teen.

 

“Charlotte, I… I will never understand how hard this is. I can’t even imagine… especially now. But… I hope you’ll still like us if you give us a chance. We’re so much more than our dog.”

 

Charlotte giggled at that, and Clarke took it as a good sign. Clarke slid down the wall across from her and dropped her head into her hands.

 

“Clarke, it’s not that I don’t like you guys. I do, mostly. Well, I liked your picture. And your dog. She’s really cute. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to feel right now. How am I supposed to just pick someone to give my baby to? I mean, c’mon. It’s my baby. I grew it inside of me, and I'm just pointing at some file, and then whoever’s inside of it gets to leave the hospital with my kid. That’s just… it’s really hard.”

 

Clarke watched as tears filled her eyes again, and spilled over onto her cheeks.

 

“I hope you know… that if you do choose us, your baby will never want for anything. He, she, whichever, whatever will be perfect and wonderful and… just. Just look over our file again. We’re doctors- well kind of. I’m the only one with a medical degree. I work in the ER, I’m a trauma specialist. Bellamy’s a History Professor at Arkadian University in the city, he specializes in classics. He, uh- he just got tenure this year, he’s got two Masters and a Doctorate. So he’s not really a doctor, but he gets to tell people he is.

 

Clarke feels her voice start to get desperate, but can’t seem to stop herself. If this is her chance, she’s taking it.

 

“He practically raised his little sister, from the time she was born. And then when their mom died, he got custody of her and put them both through the rest of high school and then college. He knows how to handle practically any situation thrown at him because he’s already handled it all. And this feels like like it’s kind of our shot at this.

 

Clarke was going to stop, let Charlotte think or maybe respond, but the monologue had taken on a life of its own.

 

“My husband is the most incredible man. He is smart, and, caring, and devoted. Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s almost always right. It, well. It can be scary how often he’s right. And even when he’s wrong… he’s so passionate about everything, he makes you think twice about your stance. I love him more than anything in this world… and it is- it’s killing me that I can’t give him a baby. I can’t do the one thing that my body is supposed to be able to do. You should see him with our nieces and nephews, he’s something else.  Watching him play with them, hearing his laugh mingled with theirs… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over that.  I’d never really thought about having kids before, in any other relationship, but I know that I want them, desperately, with him. When our time comes, I know I’ll figure out how to be a good mom, the best mom. But my husband? He’s already there. He’s a father, without a child. Please, just give us that chance.”

 

When Clarke and Charlotte walked back into the room, Bellamy stood by the window. He had a small, styrofoam cup in his hand, that he was mindlessly picking apart. Clarke watched as he tried to keep his emotions in check, but his eyes gave him away.

 

He was so scared, so sure that this was a bust. He couldn’t hide that from her, and Clarke was sure her own face read back to him just as plainly. Clarke didn’t know what to tell him, so she waited for Charlotte to take the lead.

 

Charlotte walked back over to the chair she’d been sitting in, and sat down primly. Reaching beneath the chair, she pulled her purse up and started unzipping the top pocket.

 

“So… do you guys wanna see some pictures of your baby?”

 

* * *

 

 

Snow was falling in huge flakes, landing in drifts and piles all along their street. The inside of their home was warm, with the furnace blasting and a fire roaring in the living room. Clarke stood and watched. Their backyard sparkled with the fresh snow, and the twinkle lights on the trees.

 

Cookies were in the oven, on the counters, and filled their table. The had enough to feed the neighborhood, the hospital, and then some more just for them. Clarke never wanted to see another sugar cookie again, and yet there was still more dough in their fridge chilling for tomorrow’s batch. Bellamy and Octavia insisted on making approximately one crap ton of cookies every year. Since they’d missed the year before, Octavia demanded approximately two crap tons to make up for it.

 

She nursed a cup of coffee and waited for the timer on the oven to go off. From the corner of her eye, she could see the lights on their Christmas tree shimmering, mingling with the soft glow of the candles lit around the room.

 

The gentle cries of her newborn from the baby monitor stirred Clarke from her musing. Calliope whined from upstairs and scratched at the door. She was never more than five feet away from the baby, even when the door was closed. She took her job as big sister very seriously and was distressed anytime the baby made any noise.

 

Clarke quickly climbed the stairs to the nursery, and slipped inside the door, letting Calliope in as well. Clarke almost never beat Bellamy to the nursery when the baby woke up, and she cherished the times that she did. She slowly walked over to the crib where the cries emanated, and gently lifted her daughter into her arms.

 

She changed the offensive wet diaper and trying to soothe her baby back to sleep. She loved to walk her, pacing in big, wide circles around the room. Bellamy slipped in the door, and watched them, as Clarke cooed softly to the baby.

 

“I figured I’d let you grab her at least once. Hope you don’t mind.”

 

Clarke stared down at her baby girl, snuggled in the reindeer onesie from her Aunt Octavia, watched Calliope settle at the foot of the crib. She lifted her face to her husband and smiled.

 

“Not a bit.”

 

He came up behind her when Clarke paused at the window. Their baby was perfectly awake, not even fighting sleep. Her grey-blue eyes gazed up at the two of them, and she gurgled with every breath she took.

 

“Hi there, my sweet Clio.”

 

She giggled at the sound of Bellamy’s voice and a smile broke across the tiny face.

 

“That’s right Clio, that’s the best sound in the world, huh? You like when you daddy talks to you? His voice is much better than mine, isn’t it?” Clio’s eyes blinked slowly at the soothing tone of Clarke’s voice. She started her pacing again and watched as the baby let sleep overcome her again. Nestled in her mother’s arms, Clio slept easily.

 

“Look, they’re here.”

 

Clarke looked back out the window where Bellamy stood, and watched as several cars pulled into their driveway, and parked out front.

 

Clarke strapped Clio into her sling, the only way they’d have a chance of her staying asleep now. Bellamy went downstairs, to meet their friends coming inside from their caravan.

 

“Baby, baby, baby.”

 

“She’s sleeping.”

 

“That’s a load of crap. She’s brand new, she’s always sleeping.”

 

“Clarke just got her back down.”

 

“Clio can sleep in my arms just as well as any of yours.”

 

“Pretty sure it’s my turn to hold her first.”

 

“God, I still can’t believe Clarke let you name your kid Clio. Could you be more of a history nerd, or is there still another level you’re trying to achieve?”

 

Clarke stood in the nursery, soaking in a few more seconds of alone time before their holiday started.

 

“What do you think about all of this, little lady? Are you ready for your first Christmas? Everyone’s waiting for you now. Party can’t start without you, you’re the guest of honor after all.”

 

She glanced up at the mural she’d painted so many months before, the forest scene lush and full and filled with all the promise she’d hoped. Looking at her daughter’s face, she knew that nothing could have prepared her for all that had happened to get here. There were still so many more years to come, so many things to learn. She knew they could be going through the whole hellish thing again a year or two down the road.

 

But for the moment, for this one moment, everything was perfect. Everything was still. She held her child in her arms, and so the rest of the world could wait for a few seconds more.   

 

“Alright angel, let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at followthebraingrape.tumblr.com Feel free to come scream with me.


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